A Desire For the Truth
by AC Phoenix
Summary: Post 30 years of movie SPOILERS? Most likely . With the Elric brothers working elsewhere, it's up to the youth of Amestris to discover the country's history. With a new band of homunculi on the loose, there's bound to be a deathly match of chess.
1. Prologue

Prologue

I felt like I had just submerged into an extremely deep pool of water, and something was smothering my body so I wouldn't be able to move. The only sort of movement my body made was sinking; sinking down to the bottom of nothingness.

There was only darkness, but I did not fear it. The darkness was like a native homeland, and something in the back of my mind was telling me that I was suppose to be here, while the other one told me that my job was not done. I was not destined for this life, she told me, I was meant to have a greater purpose in life; there was only death at this place. This voice—the nourishing voice of honeydew—was like a lullaby, but the tune was indifferent to me. I could only hear her words.

_Follow the light_, she whispered. _Let your arms stretch and find an opening._

I had arms? This discovery was astounding to me, but I still could not move this body within all of the darkness. No, it was not the darkness that was stopping me. It was myself. This body was none that I had ever imagined, and in fact, I was almost sure that this body wasn't real. In a way, this body was nothing but a capsule to my fragile soul, but what puzzled me was why I had been brought to such a suffocating place. My job was not yet done, and this time it was myself telling me this. My voice was not a delicate humming sound like the superior melancholy voice. Instead, it was a small feeble sound, like the leftover water dripping out of … of… now what was that silver thing called? It was like a cylinder, hollow, and hung over a square basin. I couldn't remember what the word was, but I could definitely picture the raindrop dripping out of it, and the pitch of the sound was like my voice.

My job was not done? But what more could there be?

Something caught my attention. I felt a horrifying feeling flow through my body—no, not _my _body, it was _this _body—and I was sure that a memory wanted to play right now, but nothing in my mind had came to view. This body was not strong enough to learn the difficult things of the past. Even just trying to recall what the silver thing was made me shiver, especially since it lead to so much emotion; something this body could barely handle. The only two I could feel in this capsule was either fear or nothingness. Anything that tried to register through this mind of darkness was unable, and this was exactly why the neighbors that were surrounding me had not been able to wake up yet. The only time I seem to remember waking up was a long interval ago, when something high and disturbing was clobbering against something heavy. Why did theses things have to be so noisy? They're … they're barbaric.

_You will learn soon enough, little one,_ the voice chided, then, continued with plea. _Please, stretch your arms._

_I can't_, my mentality was a weak cry of agony. Although I wanted to please this sweet chorus, I couldn't find what I was looking for. I needed a push, no, that couldn't have been it. I needed something shiny. Something bright.

_Reach!_

The frustration through my mind was building magnitude, for I couldn't understand what the voice had meant. There was a loud sound, then, an illuminating shed of light. I winced for the first time in ages, then, a strange thing came to view. I was not sure of what this species was, but the beckoning smile that spread made my soul unstable. _Butterflies,_ my mind told me. Why would there be butterflies in this place?

To my amazement, I realized that I was crowded with others like myself, but their eyes were nowhere to be found, and they seemed to be unaware of the voice that flowed through receptacle. No, that wasn't it, I told myself with assurance. The words were in my mind, but they did not belong to me. There was another faint voice in the distance, but this one was deeper. It was asking something, but I never understood what language he had been speaking. Then, my neighbors each opened their eyes, each one with a sinister mind. Their voices were in sync with mine, and I could hear their murderous threats. A sound of cackling bells escaped their vocal cords, and I knew the thing in front of me was doomed.

Panic. I could feel the pain rush through my body as I heard the mortifying words. These emotions swelling around me were just too much to handle, and this is why I guessed that none of these creatures—on which I have refused to call my brothers—could not comprehend why I wasn't going after the person. They all tried to push their way past me, but my arms sprawled first. I couldn't let them go near that being.

Before I knew it, everything that had appeared before me in the darkness was gone. What a relief.

The voices were not too far, but still were unable to hear; a side conversation, a memory reminded me.

From the instant the consciousness had become aware of life, I was almost positive that I was already going to hate my surroundings. The place was cold—too cold for the body's liking—the continuous single sound wave was intolerable, and the light of the room was unbearable, even if my eyelids were sewed together. I was aware that this body already hated the odor that the room created. It was like a hellhole created for nothing but suffering, and yet, I could figuratively see the potential of it to be resourceful. But it was still a hellhole. I winced as a shuffling noise came towards me, then, a peculiar sound caught my ears. It was as if they knew that I was already awake.


	2. Chapter 1: Fame Has Responsibility

Chapter One: Fame Has Responsibility

I certainly don't remember the train ever being _this_ slow. Honestly, after at least a century you would think that the conductors would come up with some sort of way to improve the speed of arrival, but I suppose I wouldn't have a right to criticize a vehicle that I've never been on before. We never really needed one anyway—well, we being my family, but now that I think about it, _I _was the one who never stepped foot into a train before. Our parents both worked for the military, and my father worked above our mother as a State Alchemist until the parliament had decided to take full authority. The State Alchemists thereafter continued to go true with their motto, "Live thou for the people" and instead of controlling the cities as they use to, they worked on trying to rebuild communities and helped citizens as much as they could, without abusing their powers.

There were still people who held grudges against the state, and I personally wouldn't blame them after all of the unjust punishments that they had to go through. I can't tell you how many times I had felt self-conscious for entering a room, just because people knew who my parents were. Or even if they never knew my parents, I wouldn't know since I can't read their minds, but even with one glance of a person I couldn't help but get a bad taste in my mouth before passing by. The eyes looked as slick as a cat's, eying me out of mockery, just waiting for me to trip and stub over my foot. It was a little nerve wrecking, having to know how to speak to people with the correct tone, walking with perfect posture and hoping that there wouldn't be an episode after slipping whether it was on accident or someone else's purpose. I really was an outcast of those who still hated the military under the formerly watchful eye of Fuhrer King Bradley.

Of course, my parents never forced this upon me—I accepted it with my own free will. I felt it was my duty as the youngest to bring out a good name for the family, especially since my siblings were already remarkably talented with alchemic skills. By the age of twelve, my eldest brother Royce had understood the basics of alchemy and had moved on to choose his own element—an element that would separate himself from his father's talent. Elizabeth, however, had decided to learn more with the physics of guns and to learn how to amplify its magnitude to create a better effect. I had no talent like them, and had barely passed the beginner's level. All I could do was fix an object broken into a million tiny pieces, and vise versa. Other than that, I was pretty much useless in alchemy.

The equations, chemical compounds, and physical strength made no sense or connection to me. Or perhaps, it was only because I did not have enough physical strength to begin with? Whatever the case was, there was one thing I was definitely sure of: I would never be able to master alchemy and had no intention on finding a teacher who could teach me of their ways. My name is Mel Mustang, just an ordinary twenty-year-old woman accompanied with a dog that I've owned for six years.

"I wonder if they'll let you board, Fray."

"Woof!"

Fray and I go back since his old box of other siblings, the one where we found out that Hayate was actually a female Shiba Inu. Hayate's somewhere with my parents, and I'm sure of it even though everyone thinks they're dead; the puppies were sold off to family friends or complete strangers that so happen to be strolling around at the time. The only thing I don't like about it is that they haven't found any bodies since the burning of our home, which should have been an instant giveaway that there may still be the chance that my parents still survived it, but the government won't hear another word about it. To make up for my loss, the government had decided to send me First Class to Lior, a town that was saved by the famous Full Metal Alchemist, and later on saved by his brother the Soul-Bound Alchemist. I never understood their names, but I guessed that they must have been pretty phenomenal alchemists to carry such heavy titles.

"Hey, miss! Are you coming or not?"

My feet sprung up before I could think—a bad habit I had picked up ever since I knew the meaning of being startled—and before I knew it I was already boarding with my dog at my heels. The conductor did not seem to be bothered by the pup as he followed me through the empty compartment; I dubbed it as a chance of miracle, not having to look at an accusing eye, for once. I was just a passenger in an empty compartment, while the travelers in the following compartments must have felt rather congested with so many people. I could hear faint voices chatting to one another, but whatever they were was nothing but a murmur to me.

The whistle blew loudly and Fray yelped in astonishment, taking my lap as a form of shelter before I was ready to sit down. We collided with the chair and then I could hear the locomotive beginning to work. We would be in the city in a few hours.

Of course, I had no idea what to expect when I had gotten to Lior, but a former military man was not what I had in mind. He was in his fifties and had a cigarette hanging at the end of his mouth. Messy blonde hair spiked out everywhere, completely unattractive, but his eyes were an incredible color that could have been a sapphire or a jade. A little boy with brown hair with almost the same fashion of the man, clutched onto his hand like I use to when I waited with my father the last time Royce had been under the Mustang household. This boy, Ulrich, was definitely the son of this man. James Havoc.

Why he would even consider bringing his son with him was beyond my reason of being—let alone his reason of having his bud hanging out of his lip—but the way the boy kept glancing towards my direction it seemed as though he was merely curious. It made me a little nervous to be under two pair of watchful eyes, but I should have been use to it by now. There was _always_ someone watching me.

I approached both of them with caution, saying nothing as Fray shadowed my every step.

"So how are Liz and Royce?" Havoc asked, trying to break the ice, no doubt.

"I haven't heard from Liz for a while, but I think Royce was planning to use his alchemy powers to help people in the East." With a sigh, I added his quote to the alchemist code, _"Be thou for the people."_

"Well that's nice," he responded thoughtfully. With his tone, I felt a sense of speculation for my lack of carelessness to the quote. Maybe he thought I detested the thought? Of course I didn't. What I was more concerned of was that people might not want the help of the son who helped 'corrupt the country.'

"Do you make alchemy too?"

I blinked, then, glanced down towards Ulrich with a polite smile. "All I can do is fix broken things."

"That's cool," he said eagerly. "The fixing thing should be very useful where _we're_ going." The boy gave me a quick wink before James looked down to him with a half-risen brow.

"We're?"

"Aw, dad, can't I come?"

"Sorry twerp, you're staying with Miss Thomas. Don't you remember her son, Lucas?"

The pout on his face hadn't subsided, but then Havoc gave a smirk.

"Aimee will be there too."

Ulrich still hadn't spoken, but he slowly walked ahead of us, probably trying to hide his frazzled expression. It only took me a moment to catch on what was so important about this 'Aimee' girl and I couldn't quite believe it. He was, what, ten years? Maybe eleven? Before I could speculate anymore, we began to walk, and James gave a low chuckle.

"Aimee is a foster child under the care of Elycia Hughes, probably only ten years older than you are. She's turned out to be quite as … enthusiastic as her father was. You've met her, haven't you?"

He turned his head over to the side, a gesture that was meant for humble attention, but my eyes stayed forward towards Ulrich who was no more than two strides ahead of us, hands in his pockets as his eyes gazed bored into nothing particular. Slowly I started to wonder what he was thinking, curious to what the youth these days would think about the world in the way that it was. My mind trailed off, forgetting that the elder Havoc had asked me a question, but slowly the face of a young teenager with light wavy brown hair came to my mind.

"Oh," I said, obviously too late. "Yeah, she used to come to the manor a lot before… before…"

My mind tried to find the answer to why she had not come back, but I couldn't find the solution in my head. I was so young at that time, probably no older than Ulrich.

"She and her mother moved." Havoc replied.

I looked back to him, my eyes full of curiosity, but his bore grief; the kind that someone had when they had lost someone dear to them. I tightened my lips, then gazed ahead to expect Ulrich to be waiting for us at the end of the station. But he wasn't there.

"Uh, Mr. Havoc…"

His head jerked up and his cigarette fell from his hanging jaw, a single swear word flowing out loudly. I quivered, not daring to say another word.


	3. Interface 1: The March

To avoid confusion, Fray is a male Shiba Inu.

_I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist. Enjoy!_

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**Interface 1: The March**

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_April 1970_

"Brother?" I called worriedly.

Once again, he was nowhere to be found, and I was stuck in the middle of a dirt path around foreign people who were either in bizarre trucks or out marching in military clothing. I had agreed to wear the clothes to blend in as well, but as stubborn as my brother was, he could care less of what others thought of him and was wearing the clothes that he wore the last time we had left Germany. Even still, I couldn't find him through the herd of people that were silently crossing through the forest. With a sigh, I gazed upward, hoping to catch a glimpse of the sky through the sheltering leaves that hung above us.

but of course we had to find the uranium bomb and find a way to get rid of it; not even this world we were in needed to be introduced to something like that; a science that destroyed something lead to nothing but more war and anger.

"He is speaking with the leader," a woman said.

My multi-colored eyes drifted towards the woman standing next to me, someone my brother had met at a carnival, but as far as I could tell she was simply an old friend. I nodded my head down into a normal position, my eyes gazing into nowhere in particular. I fumbled my hands against the straps that tied a bag on my back, hoping that he hadn't been giving the person any trouble. Although he always meant well, there were times when his recklessness had gotten him into trouble. Why did he have to be so violent?

"Has anyone said where we are going?" I asked casually, partly to change the subject.

"Not in so many words," she responded. "But someone had mentioned something about the South."

"I still have a hard time understanding what they're saying," I admitted, sheepishly.

"I'll agree, their language can be hard to understand…"

"But you can look through their memories, can't you?"

She nodded silently, hands folded in front of her.

"Why don't you go back to one of the trucks? I'm sure you're probably tired from all of the walking."

"And what about you?"

"Don't worry about me," I replied with an unforced smile. "I'll head over there in a while."

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Yeah... smallish chapter... but hey! I can't spoil everything on the first bit, now can I? I dunno if I'm going to do this in between each of the chapters or not...

Review? Comments? Same old drill.


	4. Chapter 2: Society and The Calling

The prespectives of characters will change throughout the fanfiction, just to make it a little more interesting. And a heads up, Ishballa is mentioned, and since it is a religion that isn't roughly explained, please (1) don't be offended (2) don't expect me to be one-hundered percent accurate. Thanks for your support.

_I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist. Enjoy!_

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Chapter 2: Society and The Calling

Even after all of these years of being placed into lines by the military and being discriminated against the people of Amestris, I was still forced to travel underground and the dark shadows of the buildings walls. After the fall of Fuhrer King Bradley, wars seemed to be less of a tradition with the State and it was safe to say that both our countries would continue to remain in peace. But I would be the only one among my people who have thrown me out for the wrong that I have been inflicted of. Not even my younger sister brought up enough courage to rescue me after being stranded, almost limbless, in the desert. They had at least enough sympathy to patch me up after the experiment with my master seemed to be a fail, but even so, I used whatever energy I had left of myself to go to the one place where it all began.

_"There has been a myth, long ago, that has said that a whole entire city had been wiped out with a red luminous light and has been forced to share its homeland with the dead. It was a time in the past where us alchemists had been called upon to rid of the plague and the innocent lives that have been jeopardized by the town folk with the assumption of witchery. Although most has been destroyed by alchemy, it can be resurrected once again."_

"To create, something in equal value must be lost." I silently quoted from an anonymous alchemist. It was the theory where you could get something else with the same resources and with the words spoken, it was as though my teacher was standing right beside me, patting me on the back with good regards.

However, I had nothing. And even so, I had been blessed with what I carry on my arm and both legs. Without these mechanical limbs, I would have been hopeless and may have rot in the desert. But I had been graced enough by the mechanic who had let me rest several days after to regain strength. He fed me, gave me a shelter, clothing, and then I left him without even a response. I'll admit that I have regretted it mercilessly, but I _had_ to leave. I can't exactly tell why I felt this way, but something in the depths of Lior was calling out to me in equal agony, wishing for me to come find them. With every step I took, I could feel his cry growing louder and louder, but tonight—whatever it was—had been silenced, but I knew he was alive_ somewhere._ I simply had to find out where and what it was; it needed me.

Riding on train was without a question the most ludicrous move I could possibly make, but even the maintenance wouldn't last long enough for her to cross the entire desert. I also needed water, which was quickly running out of my canteen bottle that hung at the hip of my belt. On my way off the bus, only few old geezers had given me nasty stares and one of them had enough nerve to spit onto my sand-covered boots as I tried to shove past the passengers who were in a hurry to escape the compartments. One of them was reserved near the back, but I guessed that they had arrived before anyone had boarded. I guessed that it must have been someone from the military, but nowadays it was hard to declare anything against people. That was, of course, you were a person who lived on old traditions and customs. My people called me after an angel, but now I wasn't so sure that it was suitable for me to bare such a heavenly name. I would have to work on an alias to get by strangers.

_"Angels were the messengers at one time, were they not? You should not take it so lightly, young Malaji, for it is your right to give the message of hope to others when they need it."_

The old man who had told me this had disappeared after I had been introduced to my master, and it was he who had told me that my name was something that gave me a title, something to be remembered as. There are, of course, many other reasons for names, and one may disagree with another just because of what they are accustomed to, and since I have been kicked out of my own customs it is up to me to find a new identity. For one, they would think of it as something light and careless, but to be known as something for the rest of your life, that was where I had to agree with the old man. A name _shouldn't_ be taken lightly; it should have meaning and of great importance.

The train's whistle wheezed out with a high-pitched tune, followed by a reckless voice bursting out into flames of anxiety. My head tilted up as a middle aged man frantically jerked his head from left to right, while a woman no longer than I was had inched herself away from him, either from embarrassment or fear. The dog at the edge of her foot had its ears covered with its paws as its tail was curled up like a wine cork remover, but whatever the man was stressing about had nothing to do with me. My crimson eyes, hidden beneath my sunglasses, darted forward as I walked into the city that bore my destination; all that was left for me to do was to find the entrance to the burial grounds that once lived on the surface.

As I casually walked through the streets, I was given a few casual glances from strangers, but I acted as though I hadn't noticed they existed. The more I came within the city, the less people seemed to be attracted by the blood-covered irises, but once I spotted a boy trying to reach for a cup by the wine fountain, I sighed and noiselessly crept up behind him, seizing the cup as he managed to take grasp of it. It easily slipped through the fingers of my hand and I scooped up a glassful.

"Thanks, kid."

"Hey, I was going to get some of that! Took me forever to finally reach it…"

I patted his head fiercely, messing up his hair as my fingers fumbled into it. He groaned in irritation as I took another swig from the cup.

"You're not going to need this stuff for another … at least twelve years kid. This stuff is for people who need a little pick-me-up through hard times."

"You adults think that you've got to worry about everything and think we shouldn't have to just because we're … we're…"

I tilted my head to the side as he glowered, refusing to finish the end of his sentence. It finally hit me after a third taste of wine before I realized what he was frustrated over and chuckled lightly.

"Puny?"

Finally, he ducked his head away from my hand and slapped the half-filled cup of wine to the ground. His face was glowing a dark shade of red and I couldn't help but snort.

"Don't get me started! I've gotten a growth spurt the past couple of weeks!"

"Yeah? Well, you're still a little man to me. You barely reach my hips and you're about… what? Nine?"

"TEN AND THREE QUARTERS!"

I sighed softly and started to retrieve the cup, but before he reached it, he snatched it from the tips of my fingers and darted for the fountain again. As he filled the cup again, he was about to open his mouth wide, but I snatched it from his careless fingers and took another chug and exhaled with relinquish.

"If I didn't get that cup any sooner, you would have set yourself up for an instant kiss."

My eyes trailed to his face, still a light shade of red, but clearly full of disgust. He was at one of those ages where children still believed that they got cooties from kissing, and as I expected, he responded with a cry of disgust and his arms folding bitterly against his scrawny chest as he stuck his tongue out at me. I shook my head in what may have looked like disbelief, but in fact, it was quite the opposite. Typical child. How nice it must have felt to be so free of expressing one's thoughts without having to worry about the outcome. One of these days he would have to learn sooner or later that what he did meant that it would cause another reaction.

"What's your name, kid?"

He jerked his head away and spat, trying to seem tough, but instead it came out like dog drool and I suppressed another urge to laugh. I hadn't had a good laugh for a long while and I slowly started to guess that the wine was starting to kick in. Honestly, I had never really experimented with alcohol and already I could tell by the smell that it was a fairly strong sense of sensation. I could feel my cheeks lightly heating up, knowing that it wasn't from the desert's dryness. I grew up in a desert myself, so this place was nothing foreign, simply a few new faces and different styles of buildings and culture.

"I don't tell strangers my name."

"That's pretty bold for you, kid." I said, amusement playing in my tone. "What if I told you my name was Ciro?"

I hadn't known where I had gotten the name from, but the boy seemed to be formulating something through his head while his chocolate brown eyes focused on the ground. It was almost hard to believe that this was the same boy moments ago that had burst out into anger and frustration, only to come to a complete silence as something caught his interest. _Still too young to be bipolar,_ I thought. But one could only imagine what could be going on in his head; even his reactions were something to wonder about.

Suddenly, he broke into a bright grin as he lifted his head. It wasn't until then that I remembered the meaning of Ciro came from an old language that meant _sun_.

"Then I guess I have to tell you my name, huh? Well, I'm—"

"LUCAS!"

"Yikes!"

Before I could understand what was going on, the young boy ducked behind me, hanging onto my jean-covered legs as his head edged out to the side, just barely showing one of his eyes to a young woman with pink highlights. A frown was placed on the surface of her tanned face as her arms were folded against her average-built chest, half bending her body towards his direction without giving me a second glance. I could feel the young boy's grip tighten against my fabric, grabbing an additional clutch of my skin by the ends of his fingers that sent a wave of unpleasantness. So I was looking at his mother, how sweet.

"Lucas, you weren't trying to take a drink from the fountain again, were you?"

I involuntarily exhaled out a snort, wondering when a child of any age would ever admit to something that could get them into trouble. I knew, for a fact, when I was his age that I was doing so many things that I shouldn't have, that my people should have sent me to exile at the second notice of an absence. I guessed that my package deal had been a paid interest to my "toll" for going against the will of Ishballa. Had I not tapped into the world of science, I would have lived with the people who used to love me, but had I not I would have never been able to venture out and meet new people who required help.

The woman had been staring me for a long moment, probably trying to debate something within her own mind, but as she finally decided to open her mouth a deep voice cut her off with a field of panicked yelling. His hands were waving in the air while his face was pale of horror and shades of blue worried stripes glowing out like a candle. Behind him was a trail of puffs from the sand, followed by a young woman who was several strides behind him, accompanied by an almost equally panicked dog that seemed to have no idea what was going on, but probably didn't want to loose sight of its master, despite the fact that the puffs must have been bulging into its nostrils and wide eyes.

"ROSE I CAN'T FIND HIM ANYWHERE! ARE YOU SURE THAT HE DIDN'T RUN OFF SOMEWHERE WITH—"

He came to a screeching halt, feet coming together like a pin while his arms stretched out and waved into circles so he would catch his balance. Just as he did, the young woman seemed to not have seen him stop and accidentally bumped him to the ground, but didn't have enough momentum to bring her self down with him. His eyes gazed up towards the boy hanging onto my legs while I took a better look at the wheezing pup and then to the supposed owner. Her golden hair floated out like feathers in a bobbed-cut, while her big onyx eyes slowly shut as she tried to catch her breath. She was the palest Amestresian I had ever met, but then again, I hadn't met that many to begin with. Most of my people were tanned.

"…Lucas," the man breathed.

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...If you had a good laugh with the end of the chapter you get Brownie/Kudos Points!

Review? Comments? You know what to do.


	5. Chapter 3: The Oasis in a Desert

Chapter 3: The Oasis in a Desert

By the time we had arrived to Lior I could already tell a miraculous difference between here and my home in Central. Everything in this desert seemed so compact and together that I felt like just staring at the walls of a building would make me choke, and that wasn't enough, the heat was unbearable (I could only imagine the worst of what Fray had to go through with his heavy coat). I couldn't remember a day in my life when either of my parents have ever mentioned such a place ever existed on the surface of Amestris, but now that I was able to venture on with the world I wasn't so sure that I was ready for the world. When it came down to it, city folk use to air conditioning and people from the desert sweating lemons just didn't mix.

Why the government had placed me here was another mind-boggling question out of a million others that were going through my head. I just didn't see why they hadn't booked me in to live with one of my siblings, or even place me into the city in the East, but I didn't really know what I had been doing here in the first place. A man that knew my parents from Central would come and meet me in the middle of a desert? Then, son goes missing without a question and then BAM. But where did all of the lines add up?

The woman that had been standing in front of Lucas didn't seem to be phased by our sudden arrival, however, the young boy seemed a little shaken by his friend's father who seemed to have partially recovered from the shock of loosing his son and was now trying to get some answers from the boy's best friend. I could easily tell that he was making the questions seem light enough for the young child to understand but Lucas still appeared to be incredibly bored with the same questions. It wasn't that he didn't want to answer them, he probably just didn't feel satisfied that he was answering most of the questions almost remotely the same. He had tried unsuccessfully to try and weasel answers out of the other one, but she wouldn't budge her mouth open even to let out a sigh of irritation.

It amazed me that even though he hadn't been working for the military for some odd years, Mr. Havoc still handled the procedures very thoroughly, but I guess it was like what my older brother Royce use to say:

_"You can kick the dog out of the military, but you can't kick the military out of the dog. These men—and women—have been doing it for years, Melecent… it's not something that they can be easily forgotten. They've seen blood of innocents, enemies and their own comrades splash out in their face and they still have to keep themselves together."_

I suddenly remembered the unavoidable morose expression that engraved in Mr. Havoc's face and that made me start to wonder how many pained faces he had to see.

"… And you haven't seen him all day?"

"Not since the last time we were in Risembool… is his arm doing all right since the last time we were at the Rockbell's?"

Mr. Havoc sighed, "He's doing great… we just need to find out where he could have ran off to."

"Have you considered The Oasis?"

My eyes widened as an unfamiliar voice spoke and automatically jerked towards the tall desert woman. Had she been any shorter, I would have guessed by her sound of voice she must have been around my age, but it was so hard to tell especially since she had mountain boots on for levitation. Who in the right mind would wear mountain boots in the middle of a desert? Let alone leather attire…

"The what?" Mr. Havoc asked with bewilderment, but clearly, if it meant finding his son he was more willing to listen to anything.

"The Oasis," Miss Thomas continued, "is a club for older teens. There is no remote location for it, since the owner is always on the move, but I have been hearing talk nearby the school…"

"Why would the owner come to the middle of the desert?"

The other woman shrugged, "Beats me, I've never met him. Heard he was a nutcase though."

"What _else_ have you heard?"

"That if someone spills too much about the Big O, then, someone's going to get hurt."

"Look, kid. My son's lost somewhere, maybe even kidnapped, and if you think you've got info you'd better spill, otherwise I'll—" he was cut off in mid-sentence.

"Old man, you've got a bad shave, city clothing from a second-hand shop and a bud sticking out of your lip. To boot things up, you look like you've let the years take you over and spit you out. I hardly think you're at any position to threaten a youth."

He gave a soft chuckle, took out his cigarette between his two fingers and exhaled out a long puff of smoke.

"Dogs of the military don't just call it quits once they're off their leash… unless they were one really lazy-ass mongrel. And I don't know that many lazy-ass mongrels. I haven't stopped training since I was sent to Central; and that was a long time ago. Tell me what you know."

His expression wasn't all too hard to read, but the way it gleamed in his eyes made me feel rather guilty for not keeping a closer eye on Ulrich. I hadn't been around many children in my life, and the ones that I did know were only a one-time meeting or even a fleeting glance. At least now I knew that an occupation in babysitting was thrown right out of my window…

I heard the young woman sigh into the distance, "I'm just too damn nice."

* * *

We were lead by Miss Thomas into an old apartment building that was still well in shape, but still needed a major paintjob, but otherwise the maintenance of the place seemed decent enough. Lucas was left in one of the lower rooms with a young man, someone who appeared to know Miss Thomas, vise versa, and much of Lucas. Although he was disappointed, he didn't seem like he wanted to go through another rehearsal of questions with Mr. Havoc, something that he seemed to hint at before leaving him behind. Once at the approximate room, Miss Thomas unlocked the door and allowed us to enter, then, shut the door and relocked it.

It wasn't until earlier that the young woman introduced herself as Ciro, but since then she hadn't said a single word. Automatically, she started to close the windows and shutters without even considering asking Miss Thomas, but she didn't seem to make a big deal about it. She looked around the room cautiously, as if something were to swoon into the room and attack, then, sighed gently and set herself onto a chair by the table. Mr. Havoc sat on the other end of the table and Miss Thomas went into another room, probably to give them no audiences. I found myself leaning my back against the wall with knees bent, sitting idly on the floor. I suddenly realized Fray had been left with Lucas as a partial token of bribery.

"All right, talk."

Ciro sucked in a deep breath, then, spoke out almost inaudibly, but precise.

"There have been reports of missing children roughly around the ages of nine and twelve. Members have noticed that some of the kids go missing after the Big O disappears, but that's just coincidence. He hasn't given anyone any reason to suspect him, but then again, I've heard he's a nutcase."

"I've heard about those reports… the children don't seem to relate to what most ransom kidnappers would need and even police have a hard time tracking anyone down. It's like they're kidnapping with a blindfold."

"Exactly. He doesn't care what the kid's parents got, he gets loaded just letting teenagers in," she paused after a moment. "That is, assuming that he is the one at crime."

"But he has no reason to be?" Mr. Havoc asked in a peculiar tone.

"No reason," Ciro responded casually with a short nod.

I didn't quite understand where they were getting at, but I felt like I was missing something very obvious. Mr. Havoc casually rubbed the back of his neck and gazed towards the door and then back towards Ciro who had a ghastly smile playing across her lips.

"So this nutcase… probably a careless hick without a worry in a day's work with a girlfriend or two, and a clean record. Am I right?"

"That sounds about right, but the first two aren't too hard to get by. They're really friendly."

"So you've met them before," he stated; by that much I could tell he wasn't asking a question.

"The third one's loaded. Fourth never really shows up," she responded with a shrug. "But I heard she's a real flirt with a nasty reputation."

"I see… but you still haven't told me something very crucial."

"And what's that?"

"How often does one see the whites in his eyes?"

* * *

"Hold… still… you."

"I've already told you… argh… I don't do clubs! Besides, my father would die from heart attack the day he sees me in a miniskirt!"

"Well he's not here now, is he?"

"No, but—"

"There. I don't see why you don't think makeup looks good on you."

"I don't see why _I _have to wear the makeup and _you_ get to wear the leather pants."

"It's simple," Ciro said to me as though it should have been obvious, "I can't apply makeup to myself, and besides, the way that skirt's on you would be dangerously tight on me. I'm surprised that someone actually threw it out… don't look at me like that Miss Thomas washed it. Just be thankful that it hadn't been shredded."

My nearly bare legs shivered at the though of showing any more skin than I already was, let alone a skirt. Before I could open my overly glossed lips to dig deeper into debate, she stepped away from the mirror and a girl's mouth fell open. She was incredibly pale, but even so it didn't seem to affect the indigo tube top's color in any sort of way. Her short hair couldn't be managed as much as it was, but against the makeup her face looked almost stunning. On her shoulder was a fake tattoo of a skull, same color as the top, while her feet were wrapped in high-heel sandals. It was still hard to believe that I was staring at myself, but I felt regrettably uncomfortable and out of place.

"See? You look fine!"

"I still say I should wear the pants."

She sighed exasperatedly, "There's no convincing you, now is there? Whatever, we still have to get in, and it's almost time for the vampires to come out."

"Vampires?"

"The club members, genius." She poked my forehead rather hard and I groaned. "I don't care what you call yourself just so long as you don't give a real name. I knew this club owner once a long time ago and I'm as sure as hell that he still hates the military for what it used to be. Additionally, stay away from any Mohawks and people with full glasses; they won't leave you alone."

"You make it sound like we're going to be split up… no, no way, absolutely not!"

"Sorry, you'll be able to get past the front since you're new, but you're not going to be able to get past the guards without questioning. It'll save us time if you just wait somewhere in the club."

"But that's suicidal!"

She laughed, "You make it sound like I'm sending you to the devil himself. And if it makes you feel any better, I know someone who's been going to this thing for years, and he's the chivalrous kind."

"No, it doesn't make me feel better."

I could tell that I was already dimming her mood, but there was a hint in her eyes that told me that she didn't always act the way she did towards others, or maybe it was just the figment of my imagination. She spun me around by the shoulders until I was facing the door and forced me through. The heels I was in wouldn't give me enough balancing support to protest so I went along with her movements until we were out of the door. Before we left, I could have sworn I heard a dog whistle and a light smack on a soft surface from the kitchen area. My face was practically flaming as we were headed towards the stairs.

* * *

Wow, I don't even see where this is going. Haha. Well, that's what you get for winging a story.

Review? Comments? That button is getting rather lonely. Heh.


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